


So Wrapped Up

by Chromi



Series: Deuce-centric [15]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Body Worship, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, chest fucking, does it count if Deuce does it to himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: “So anyway, changing the subject,” Ace said, thumping down his drink to the table, “I wanna fuck your chest.”Deuce’s spoon clattered loudly into his bowl of cereal.“Huh?”
Relationships: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Series: Deuce-centric [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576678
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	So Wrapped Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a conversation I had with a friend. This was supposed to be 3k max. It is... not.
> 
> Deuce makes an offhand joke about wound fucking, just in case this is something that could upset anyone. It's only a joke and not mentioned again, but heads up.

“So anyway, changing the subject,” Ace said, thumping down his drink to the table, “I wanna fuck your chest.”

Deuce’s spoon clattered loudly into his bowl of cereal.

_“Huh?”_

Raucous laughter erupted all around them from their crewmates, Skull even seeing fit to slap Deuce on the back and effectively knock the air from his lungs. Because yes, Ace had in fact just announced such a thing in the presence of the entire crew, at breakfast, completely out of the blue and injected into the pleasant conversation they had been having about Mihal’s most recent attempt at trimming Saber’s hair (which, for the record, had gone surprisingly well).

So really, Deuce felt he was well within his right to gape at Ace across the table, ignoring the braying idiots laughing away at his expense as his face felt like it was lighting on fire.

“Why?” Was all Deuce managed, the multitude of questions fighting to voice themselves first giving way to perhaps the most useless of the bunch. “Just— _why?”_

“Why not?” Skull, sitting beside him, answered for Ace, idly waving his fork. “Dude, it’s about time you recognize you’re hot.”

“Yeah, but—” there was _hot_ , and then there was… whatever this was.

“No buts!” Skull laughed, dropping the fork to his plate in favor of making a show of lunging for Deuce’s chest. Deuce, expecting such a display of nonsense from their friend, pulled his jacket closed with an irritated click of his tongue. “C’mon, lemme cop a feel here, Master Deu!”

“But I haven’t got any—get _off_ ,” he couldn’t help but snort, shoving Skull away by the shoulder as he made an exaggerated display of patting at Deuce’s covered chest, “I haven’t got anything _there_ ,” he said to Ace, exasperated, “there’s nothing _to_ fuck… unless you meant something really messed up and along the lines of wound fucking—”

“Now there’s a _bloody good_ thought, hah—”

“Shut up already, Skull.”

But Ace didn’t respond to Deuce’s well-founded confusion. Not verbally, at least. Instead he placed a palm to the middle of the table, leaned across and, on taking Deuce’s chin between forefinger and thumb, pressed a warm, meaningful kiss to his lips.

“I’ll see you later,” Ace smiled, drawing from Deuce that desire that never failed to rise whenever they kissed – that _urge_ to pull him back in and map him, relearn him, trace every line and contour of his lips, tongue, teeth, regardless of how Skull was right _there_ and _watching_ —“see if Skull can enlighten you on the allure of your pecs while I go make myself usual in town.”

“Ah!” Skull cried mournfully, pushing out his chair. “No fair Cap’, I wanna go haggle with the locals too!”

“Please take him with you,” Deuce sighed, returning to his breakfast with absolutely no enthusiasm, doing his best to smother the flicker of hunger for Ace that he had unwittingly sparked, “and have fun. Don’t get arrested.”

“You’ll be the first to know if I do,” Ace chimed, pushing in his chair with a wave of his fingers and leaving Deuce feeling quite devoid of hope that his boyfriend would stay out of trouble.

* * *

However, Ace did not get arrested. Nor did he wind up in a fight, or find himself mixed up in any form of drama, food-related or otherwise, for a change.

All in all, Deuce was thoroughly impressed.

And considerably turned on when he found out the reason behind Ace’s sudden and impeccable command over his ability to stay out of trouble.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” Ace sighed to Deuce’s lips the instant he had their bedroom door locked, strong arms looping around Deuce’s waist. “Do you know how hard it was to stop myself getting horny when all I wanted to do was touch you?”

Deuce’s pants were all but torn from his legs in Ace’s haste once he was on the bed, flinging them haphazardly off in the direction of the desk. Not that he cared at all where they landed; not that he cared in the _slightest_ what became of his clothes now.

Not when he had Ace, bare, hard, bearing down on him to coax his jacket off his shoulders, to slip confident between his teeth and lick his tongue into play before Deuce even had the chance to welcome him back.

“I can imagine,” Deuce groaned into the kiss that bore teeth to his carotid, tilting his head to the side to offer more of that vulnerable artery, tendon, skin, “I struggled with—with going over the maps with M-Mihal after you lef— _mn_ —”

Five hours, he had been gone. For five long, miserable hours Deuce had waited, periodically making excuses to duck back to their bedroom or the bathroom and stare at himself in confusion – or, more specifically, at his chest. He didn’t see the fascination no matter how long he stared, or no matter how much he flexed, strained, pushed his elbows together to give himself a valleyed cleavage… it was just a chest. Just muscle beneath skin above bone around heart. There was no appeal that he could find, which just left him all the more intrigued as to _what_ Ace saw when he looked.

… And those five hours had been five hours of _impatient_ waiting. Of fighting off arousal. Of imagining Ace’s attention diverted elsewhere south, lavished and loved upon and ending in gasped euphoria—

—that he practiced now, head slamming back into the pillows and craning back, back, allowing for the deep arch of his spine to lift him from the bed. Hot – too hot, _just right_ – fingers circled his nipples, tweaked them stiff above lungs that filled with the spike of raw hunger that stunned his senses so completely. Lips followed, clamping down to his right nipple to suck and flick, dragging from him the most filthy, awfully lewd sound with complete ease.

“I take it you missed me?” Ace mouthed to Deuce’s chest, knowing the answer yet wanting to hear it anyway.

He knew – he _always_ knew, not like Deuce was any good at pretending otherwise – when he had his partner on the brink of visceral anticipation. Right there, waiting, eager for his touch yet left bereft. Was it a game to Ace, to rile Deuce with the simplest of words and most blatant of intent, only to leave him yearning, imagination churning?

Almost definitely.

And Deuce _enjoyed it._

He found Ace’s hand and guided it down, skin prickling most deliciously at that deliberate brush of fingertips to sensitive abdomen. Down, dragging low, encircling his erection already thick and tight under Ace to a high, pleased hum issued from his partner.

“What do you think?” Deuce breathed, taking Ace by the neck to pull him in, striking with teeth bared and aching for his taste.

“I think you drive me crazy, Deu.” The words were delivered direct to his tongue, working him up most cruelly with a flick of tip to lip. “I _think_ ,” he mouthed to Deuce’s lips, off center yet hitting his mark with how _raw_ he sounded, “I wanna know whether you’re up for letting me eat your ass.”

That caught him off guard. That had Deuce’s eyes flying open, hips stilling in their gentle rock up into Ace’s touch, knee dropping back to the bed from where it had bent just _so_ to nudge his thigh to Ace’s cock. The loss had Ace chasing him down, dropping his hips to grind shamelessly against Deuce with a sigh of relief fluttering to his cheek.

“Given up on the chest idea?” Deuce asked, and much to his own surprise, he sounded _disappointed_. Fine, so he had been curious – what of it? He saw the attraction to Ace’s sun-kissed chest, yes – saw the attraction to every inch of him, really – but to his own? It was no different to, say, Skull’s, as far as he was aware, although, granted, significantly less hairy.

But Ace quirked a grin – one so eager that Deuce almost trembled with anticipation at such a look – and whispered, “not at all. I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna get you off, then I’m gonna get me off, and then I’m gonna get you off again for good measure.”

Ah. Well, wasn’t that just utterly perfect?

Yet as Ace sat up following a spluttered, embarrassed promise that yes Deuce _had_ showered properly just before Ace’s return (because nothing spelled disappointment quite like not being able to fuck himself spent on Ace’s cock when the urge arose), the humiliation began to set in.

Every time. _Every time_ he got to his knees, lifted his hips up and tilted to bare intimate to the only person he had ever – _would_ ever – loved, the shame associated with the position never failed to set in. The horror. The deep, compelling voice inside of him hissing that this was hygienically _wrong_ , that getting rimmed was not something to be indulged in, regardless of how mind-numbingly _incredible_ it felt. How with Ace’s tongue and lips sliding slick to his entrance Deuce could find himself moaning uselessly, words forgotten and mind blank to anything other than all-encompassing, all-consuming _pleasure._

And this time was no different. This time, like each before it, Deuce shook where he positioned; curled chilled fingers to sheets; pressed forehead to mattress once the mask was removed by deft, confident fingers. Ace liked him bare to the core – _Deuce_ liked that too, though he still struggled to accept it on occasion.

But oh, what he liked more than that – what he _loved_ and what he welcomed through the worry of this being _bad_ and _gross_ and only something that Ace merely _tolerated_ – was the sensation of Ace touching him so intimately. Of the tell-tale pop of the cap. Of those inhumanly warm fingers sliding lubed over him, relaxing him, getting him used to the touch and attempting to calm what Ace knew had never left him.

It overpowered him. It shook him right to the tips of his fingers, his toes.

Ah, god, Deuce loved him. Loved him like nothing and no one else.

Loved how Ace could raise a heated sigh, a guttural moan, from him without anything more than allowing his index finger to glide along his rim.

Back.

Forth.

_Sigh._

_“Ace—”_

“Deuce.”

“Feels—nice,” Deuce’s voice came strained, muffled where he pressed his face to the mattress, “feels r-really nice, but—”

“Want me to start properly?”

_“Yes.”_

The fingers were gone too quickly, leaving Deuce lifting his hips up into nothing, into loss. But—they returned near instantly, falling to his hips instead to angle him, position and mold him at Ace’s leisure.

“Look at you,” Ace sighed, all appreciation and love rolled into a single breath, “god, just _look_ at you.”

A surge of thrilling warmth gripped his cock like a sleeve at Ace’s words – no physical contact, no touch to speak of – causing him to swell and drip, to rub his forehead to the bed just that little bit harder above cheeks that lit up fiery pink. The absence of Ace’s touch where he wanted it left Deuce raising his hips a fraction, begging silently that he stop _looking_ and start _licking_.

“Ace,” his name came shaky with anticipation in that cruel, endless waiting game where he was left only to guess at when the slick slide of Ace’s tongue would put him out of his misery—“don’t just _look_ , it’s— _so_ —embarrassing, I—”

A warm breath of air – Ace exhaling against buzzing nerves and tingling skin – cut off Deuce’s weak protest.

“Do _you_ think it’s embarrassing when you look at me like this?” Ace purred, and—oh, that was his nose, definitely, trailing up the sensitive inside of his cheek so close to his hole that Deuce couldn’t suppress the hitched breath and flinch, the instinctual tightening of muscles against the teasing sensation. “When _your_ tongue is buried inside _me_ , and I push back against your lips and moan your name… does _that_ embarrass you?”

Never. Never never never. There was nothing sincere that Ace could do in the bedroom that Deuce could _ever_ find to be embarrassing – when Ace was wrapped up in lust and that single-minded greed that yearned for every touch and kiss that Deuce could offer him, Deuce found it impossible to feel anything other than that corresponding _ache_ for Ace.

“That’s different,” Deuce argued, and— _oh_ —immediately sighed hard, knees thoughtlessly spreading that little wider to the sensation of that first fleeting lick to his entrance. “That’s— _Ah-Ace—fuck_ —”

“How is it different?” His breath was _so_ hot to Deuce’s skin, it wasn’t _fair—_

“Because that’s _you_ , and you’re—you’re—”

Flawless. Perfect. Irreplaceable.

It was a double standard, Deuce knew, and he knew his argument stood on crumbling foundations of feeble reasoning, but in his eyes, Ace was exempt of any measures that Deuce held himself against.

Another swipe of a lick – one that rolled from perineum to coccyx – had Deuce whining something woefully high-pitched and eager. While Ace’s ability to prolong foreplay certainly had improved the longer they had been together, that didn’t mean to say that Deuce always _wanted_ him to draw it out like this. Not when he was so hard and trembling, swallowing thick against muscles that seemed to constrict without pressure.

“Well, don’t you think that’s how I feel about you, too?” Ace asked, all low and sultry and clearly reaching the end of his own patience, thank _god_ , because Deuce didn’t think he could stand a whole lot more of this. “Don’t you think that this—” a pause to lick a broad, flat line to his rim; one that had Deuce virtually choking with surprise, with how _good_ it felt, “—turns me on just as much as it does you when you’re in my position?”

Deuce’s head swam pleasantly, finger joints cracking with the force of gripping the sheets that little bit harder. He wasn’t above admitting to himself that Ace’s words reassured deeply, doubling up to arouse him far more effectively than typical dirty talk ever could. This, to him, was what got his heart pumping, mind clouding, love pooling to give rise to gasped moans of total passion.

“I _guess_ —”

“—Then stop overthinking so much and let me taste you properly.”

And then those warm lips enclosed against him, drawing to suck at his skin and make him _sob_.

Everything stopped mattering. Everything outside of the feeling of Ace’s tongue lapping to his entrance simply stopped to exist at all, as far as Deuce was concerned. Those firm, wet strokes against him sent his mind spiralling with perfect success, rendering him incoherent and muffled to sheets and mattress, completely overcoming and dominating Deuce’s nerves just as they always managed to.

“Ace, _oh my g_ —"

A harsh, guttural sort of sound squeezed from him, the urge to reach down underneath himself and take his cock in hand one that was almost overpowering. But no, not yet – that could come later, would happen when Ace decided on it and not himself. When Ace read him with startling accuracy, seeming to _feel_ when he drew close more than anything and acting upon cues that Deuce didn’t even know he was giving.

The pressure of the pads of Ace’s fingers made Deuce jump on contact with his balls, massaging and stroking him and only serving to fire him up further. He pressed back without thought, without hesitation, seeking only _more_. _God yes_ , his touches were phenomenal. Always were.

“You feel amazing,” Ace breathed to soaked skin, pressing a loud kiss to Deuce’s relaxed hole, “all soft and wet back here.”

“And you,” Deuce gasped, shifting against the sheets, offering himself up as much as he could, silently urging for that tongue to return, to work him into babbling nonsense against saliva-dampened sheets, “you f-feel good—so good.”

It seemed useless to point out that he was only that way because Ace was making him so. The thought was lost the instant Ace returned with vigor, fingers leaving Deuce’s hips, the back of his balls, to skate up over his ass and—

Squeeze roughly, grasping him in such a way Deuce groaned through clenched teeth—

To press his thumbs to Deuce’s rim, gently pulling him open with that heated touch—

Allowing for Ace to ease his tongue inside, fucking him shallowly to an entire symphony of gasped vulgar language.

“ _Fuck,”_ Deuce cried out, hips twitching back against Ace’s face without thought, the wet pressure _so much_ _more_ than simple touch, “ _A-Ace, Ace, ahh—”_

It didn’t matter that Ace didn’t – couldn’t – respond outside of an almost predatory, hungry growl that shivered through Deuce’s skin. Sensibility was receding fast, Deuce’s awareness narrowing to the sensations alone, the raw, wet _smack_ of the lewd noises Ace was producing. Hot, Deuce found them, and only vaguely did he recognise that doing so was unusual to say the least.

No matter.

Fingers spun into Deuce’s hair – his own, gripping tight for something, _anything_ , to anchor to – as the pressure within him coiled embarrassingly easily. His stomach cramped with need, that undeniable urge to come working him up and guiding him into reaching down to wrap his free hand around his leaking cock. It was too much—too _much_ to bear and oh so quickly, too, in the wake of hours of arousal and now with Ace’s tongue working him just _so_.

He couldn’t wait for Ace to intervene. Every movement of that tongue was palpable against each tingling nerve – every little flick of the tip on pulling out; the easy roll of it against him, up, down, soaking on sliding back inside; the constant, unyielding pull of thumbs holding him open to be eaten alive, coaxing the relaxed ring of muscle to welcome the softest of penetration, opening his body up to Ace’s hunger.

But—

Deuce felt Ace let go of him on his right. A low, frustrated moan issued from him to seep into the mattress before Ace had even had the chance to halt his quest to relieve the ache in his cock for friction, for release. That was the thing about Ace – he _noticed._ Even with his face pressed deep into Deuce’s ass, he had noticed him taking hold of himself – and the anguish of having to _stop_ that hasty tug saw Deuce almost biting clean through his own damn tongue.

“No,” Ace instructed, panting hard to Deuce’s entrance, lips gliding over him on forming the words, “don’t touch yourself, Deu. Don’t.”

“But—”

The sooner Deuce got off, the sooner they could get to the main objective of the session. Curiosity still bit at him despite the fog of dense longing, despite how much he was feeling it, and he wanted to _know_. He wanted to see the pull that Ace so clearly saw, what interested his partner enough to bring up the topic at breakfast. So the sooner the better, right? The sooner they could get through the purely selfish side of seeing him come undone, the quicker he’d _learn_.

Which then saw Deuce saying the sentence he didn’t think he _could_ ever say when so _close_ , when Ace had returned to lapping at him, preparing to slip back inside to tongue-fuck him into desperation.

“A-Ace, stop.”

Ace did so immediately without hesitation, palms sliding up and over to dip into the curve of Deuce’s spine in the most caring display of concern that he could muster, given their position. And, on dropping his hips somewhat reluctantly – on biting back a shudder at the wet slide of his cheeks to the sheets once he had turned around and sat, legs folded – Deuce was met with a look of worry painted to those adorable freckled cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” Ace asked, crawling up into Deuce’s space and welcomed there with a touch to his cheek. Both hands, warm and comforting, came up to mirror him, cupping Deuce’s face like it was something precious. “Didn’t it feel good?” He glanced down at Deuce’s erection – red, thick, weeping pre-come – and raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Uh, guess that’s not it.”

Those warm hands were taken, chilled thumbs pressing their pulse to the very center of Ace’s palms, and Deuce guided them down to come to rest pointedly at his chest. That gray gaze flickered back up to meet deep brown and, with a slow-growing wry smile, comprehension dawned across Ace’s handsome face.

As if Ace could _ever_ do anything that didn’t feel good to Deuce.

“Here,” Deuce said, gently arching forward into Ace’s touch that quickly transformed into an appreciative squeeze, “this is what you wanted to try out, right?” His touch skimmed down over Ace’s arms, stroking back and forth at a languid, easy pace – one that saw Ace humming a small pleased sound, his smile widening. “So let’s try it. I’ve been so curious all day.”

“Before getting off? Really? You sure?” Ace asked too quickly, entirely giving away what Deuce’s willingness did to him. “’Cause the position I’m thinking of would mean you get a face full of come, if it works…”

It was Deuce’s turn to raise a disbelieving brow. “Oh no,” he said sarcastically, “now _there’s_ something you’ve never done to me before. How would I ever cope.”

Ace snickered, leaning in and voice dipping husky as he breathed, “fuck, Deu, I love you—”

—but he was stopped abruptly in his path towards a deep, searching kiss by Deuce’s fingers pressed to his lips. “No kissing,” Deuce stated, snorting a laugh of his own when Ace gave his fingers an exaggerated wet kiss, “you’ve just had your mouth against my ass.”

“ _That’s_ where you draw the line?” Ace sighed, exasperated. “You’ve washed well enough to have my mouth all over you, but not for me to then kiss you with that mouth?” Deuce shrugged, unfazed. “Ugh, talk about double standards…” Deuce didn’t relent, however, and Ace frowned briefly before snapping his fingers, conclusion hidden from Deuce yet obviously plain to himself. “Would you let me kiss you if I brushed my teeth?”

Deuce seriously hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was. “Yeah,” he said slowly, reluctantly, “I would, but—Ace, _no_ —”

But too late – Ace was clambering off the bed, hurriedly snatching up his towel from where Deuce had hung it over the desk chair earlier on in the day (towels didn’t tend to dry in heaps on the floor, after all). He fastened it around his hips, looking most pleased with himself.

“Two minutes,” he said in response to Deuce’s obvious horror, “just two minutes and I’ll be back, okay?”

All this for a kiss? Really? Deuce’s head hit the pillows again with a deep, heartfelt sigh which, sadly, Ace took as permission to run off around the Spadille with an erection and a mix of saliva and lube coating his chin and cheeks.

“I’ll have finished myself off by then,” Deuce called after Ace as he left the room, taking a mean sort of pleasure in the sound of Ace’s yelp.

Trust Ace to do something like this…

… and trust Deuce to not actually care, finding the ridiculous interruption almost endearing, in a strange sense.

And so he set to work on himself, too agitated to sit patiently and wait, hunger rampant and insatiable in his gut for Ace’s touch to come and replace his own again.

His breath caught in a groan at the first slide of his thumb over his head, smearing the beading pre-come that hadn’t dribbled down the shaft yet. Fuck, he had been so close – _so close_ to coming just from the incredible sensation of Ace’s talented tongue – and yet he had stopped it. Had decided to edge himself like this, putting a stopper to Ace’s plans of getting him off twice tonight. But no harm done; if Ace was determined, then Deuce was certain he would still achieve his goal, though through different methods.

He didn’t have to wait long, had barely even started to feel the beginnings of that delicious, undeniable _pull_ returning deep in his stomach, the first wet pulse of his cockhead, before Ace was back, panting heavily and looking at Deuce like he was the most appetising spread he had ever laid eyes on.

“I should leave you in the middle of sex more often,” Ace growled, climbing back on the bed and bringing with him something almost _feral_ in his smile, “if this is the treat I get to come back to.”

Hot fingers grazed along Deuce’s thighs on Ace’s adoring ascent up his body, bringing with him that weighted look that saw Deuce effortlessly submitting to what he silently urged. Back, down, until he was supine and flushed, the hand that had refused to relent in stroking himself taken and pinned back to the pillow. A sigh fluttered from him with the feeling of Ace bearing down, caging him, all warm and supple muscle, lithe and tanned, stunning and sensual and oh-so beautiful.

And then—

Lips to his. Starving. Searching. Encouraging he part and invite in the sweep of Ace’s tongue, fighting back the breath that threatened to stutter free of him. Deuce’s earlier desire to fully map out Ace’s every ridge and valley, tooth and tongue and skin to skin, came true at long last. Those fingers left his wrist, trusting him to stay still, and curved to cup his chin and encourage it down, to open up, to give Ace the access that Deuce granted without any help.

He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t _stop_ himself from—from _anything_. Ace was so warm against him, sliding hard up against Deuce’s aching erection, bringing with him the urgency of release that Deuce consciously fought down, but— _how_ was he supposed to suppress that? How _could_ he swallow back the pulse of pleasure that shot through him, seemed to fizzle out right through to his lips sliding fervently to Ace’s? He moaned, worryingly high-pitched, rocking his hips up into Ace’s and wondering vaguely if maybe he didn’t mind coming like this, pinned and helpless, beneath his boyfriend.

A thumb hooked between his teeth, cutting short that thought and stilling the roiling heat pooling between his legs – Ace leaned back, breathless, pleased, dark eyes _alive_ with need.

“What do you want me to do?” Ace asked, far too hot and _far_ too sensual for his own fucking good, because Deuce was instantly visited by the intense urge to give up on this slow build and demand that Ace bend him knees-to-face and _fuck_.

“Meaning?” Deuce rasped, careful not to bite down on the intruding thumb that Ace didn’t seem bothered about removing.

A slow, deliberate kiss was mouthed off center to Deuce’s lips, Ace’s hold on him preventing him from kissing back properly or moving against him at all – and Deuce’s blood _boiled_ with the need to reciprocate. Instead he grabbed, dug blunted nails to Ace’s waist, and rolled up with clear intention hard enough to draw a heated little laugh that ended in a groan, a rock of Ace’s hips against his.

“ _Meaning_ ,” Ace sighed, the cant of his hips coming gentle, slow, so _damn slow_ and tantalising that Deuce’s eyes rolled back and closed from the delicious pressure, “you’re about to come – you’re soaking us down there – so—” he licked up Deuce’s lips, hooking under the top to elicit a sharp, needy sound from his partner, “—I could get you off like this, if you want me to, before we…” A gentle squeeze to his left pectoral illustrated Ace’s implication.

And that alone was plenty enough to solidify Deuce’s decision.

The intruding thumb was removed from between his teeth, hand taken and guided to rest at Deuce’s chest alongside the other. A grin, offered sure and reassuring both, tucked itself in against Ace’s lips that parted in question at Deuce’s decision to edge yet again.

“Stop stalling,” Deuce groaned through the kiss, cupping Ace’s face, fingers carding back into his thick hair, “and be properly selfish for once. Or what,” he grinned, goading, against Ace’s lips, “was this morning’s announcement all show for the guys?”

A huffed laugh ghosted Deuce’s skin; Ace’s warm forehead bumped to his own, affectionate.

“Okay,” Ace said, pressing one final, hard kiss to Deuce’s lips, “okay. Just lie there, then; I’m gonna straddle your chest.”

To say that the position excited him was a severe understatement. Having Ace sit up to swing a leg over his chest, sitting squarely to his solar plexus and cage him with strong, muscular thighs was… well, it sparked something deep within Deuce that rivalled the arousal that already coursed through his blood.

Heat spiralled through Deuce, threatened to shut down his thoughts and the very ability to _breathe_ with how Ace’s weight bore down on him, seeing Deuce grind his head back into the pillows, so acutely turned on, so _ready_. Palms slid flat up along Ace’s thighs, an appreciative hum accompanying them; it was body worship, in a sense, Deuce guessed, what he felt for Ace. That willingness to drop everything at any given moment and simply touch him, pour passion to skin to love and to adore – for Ace was perfect, utterly and brilliantly so, and this position only served to accentuate this fact.

… That, and rob Deuce of the ability to calm himself anymore. Ace’s cock was so tantalisingly _close,_ head thick and flushed and beading pre-come that dripped and slid down Deuce’s chest to collarbone. He could lean forwards, strain and reach to lap it up if he so wanted; could, if he fully wanted to abandon this scene for any reason, simply grab Ace by the hips and pull him in, take his cock to the back of his throat and urge Ace into riding his face—

—the thought of which caused Deuce to sigh a shuddering breath; for his dick to twitch, neglected and unnoticed, behind Ace. Deuce was sure he felt himself drip too, pooling at his abdomen with a need that he would not address.

“Wow,” Ace breathed, brushing Deuce’s hair back off his forehead, settling a little more comfortably atop of him and— _oh, that felt amazing_ —grinding his ass down against him _wonderfully_ , “this is a great position.”

Deuce could not agree more.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he ground out, hips lifting unconsciously up into nothing, _nothing_ , gaining no relief yet drowning in it at the mere _sight_ of Ace rocking forward with his movement, “yeah, this is—” he drew a deep, shuddering breath as Ace groped at his chest, squeezing firm before his fingers splayed out reverently, almost, like he couldn’t touch enough of Deuce at any one moment, “ _hah_ , Ace, that’s—”

“Since when has your chest been erogenous to you?” Ace murmured, tone so indicative of equal surprise and arousal, “you’ve _never_ reacted like this before…”

 _Since you showed a concentrated interest in it_ , Deuce wanted to say, yet his words were lost in favor of gripping Ace’s thighs tighter, jaw dropping slack to an uncontrolled moan. Ace had—Ace had pinched his nipples between his index and middle fingers, rolling them, watching with rapt interest as they stiffened to rosy peaks atop shuddering breaths.

With a frantic slap down to the mattress, Deuce located the bottle of lube that Ace had coated his entrance in earlier. Hurriedly, shakily, still surprised by his own desperation for something that had never once crossed his mind before earlier on today, Deuce swallowed thick as he squeezed a little of the lube to the head of Ace’s cock. Not that he really _needed_ it, as such – fuck, Ace was producing enough of his own, pre-come glistening shiny where it dripped to Deuce’s chest, head smothered in it – but still, if he wanted this to be perfect for Ace, then—

Deuce almost bit straight through his tongue on Ace’s hot, tight sigh when he awkwardly bent his wrist to spread the lube over him thoroughly. Again, he thought of giving in and taking Ace by the hips and choking himself on his cock, but that selfishness was silenced, shut down, to instead watch how Ace _swelled_ at his touch. Pinpricks of pain erupted at Deuce’s chest – a sensation that was welcomed, always – as Ace’s nails sunk into the skin, anchoring him.

“After this,” Ace said, voice course and rough with that clear hunger to get _moving_ already, “after we clean up, I’m gonna finish off what I started and—” he sighed a raw groan, hips twitching forward into the pressure of Deuce’s thumb sliding slick over his frenulum, up across his slit, “—a-and I’m g-gonna make you come from my tongue inside you. Gonna—gonna get my fingers in you too, press all your favorite spots, Deu, as my way of thanking you for trying this.”

He didn’t need _thanking_. He didn’t need anything like that – not for this, not for anything that Ace _ever_ wanted to try, weird or interesting or anything slotted in between.

What he needed was Ace to start moving already.

And, to demonstrate, Deuce let go of that thick, red cock to instead grasp Ace’s hands again, guiding them to press his firm chest muscles up together as much as he could – he barely managed to trap the underside of Ace’s dick between them, of _course_ , but Ace still looked pleased with this minimal achievement.

“Here,” Deuce almost pleaded, knees spreading futilely in an ridiculous effort to _try_ and reduce the intense pressure that refused to stop building within him, “focus here first.”

Ace did with one final, satisfied grin that dropped into slack-jawed pleasure on that first slick, easy slide against Deuce’s pectorals.

And oh, _hell_ , what a sensation it was.

Each slow, tentative thrust forward, the draw of hips back to a soft groan issuing from Ace – it all left Deuce almost finding himself moving _with_ Ace through the motions, as if he could garner any sense of pleasure directly from the contact. Ace’s thigh muscles flexed most captivatingly when he tilted forwards, reangling his center of gravity to bear more of his weight on his knees, making movements easier, more fluid.

Rhythm found, angle adjusted once, twice, and Ace sighed long, low, satisfied. Rocking forward, the head of his cock slid slick to Deuce’s chest and came _so close_ to being within range of tasting. Blunted nails again dug into him, the prickle of pain replaced almost immediately by a boiling spike of sheer _bliss_ as Ace trained his focus back to Deuce’s nipples, pinching them between forefinger and thumb.

“ _Shit_ , Deu,” Ace growled, pressing him tighter around his cock, chin lifting in tandem with a roll of his hips, the dribble of pre-come spilling to pearl at Deuce’s collarbone, “this feels _good_.”

He believed him. And, worryingly, _shockingly_ , even, it felt almost _too_ good for Deuce, too. Warmth held him snug not just where Ace straddled but down around his hips, where he strained up to find contact with nothing and felt the leak of pre-come sliding down his soaked shaft. Everything was slippery, from his balls to his thighs to his ass where Ace had rimmed him to become soft and welcoming for the end that had never happened, and—

A harsh exhale was ripped from Deuce, lungs seizing, throat constricting, suddenly and absolutely convinced that he was going to come like this.

But not yet – not _yet_. Not until Ace did, no matter what.

“You—your hands,” Deuce gasped, encouraging Ace’s pace to pick up through grasping his thighs, squeezing, pulling, “on my, my— _ahh_ — _Ace—_ like _that_ —”

His head pressed back into the pillows with the rough slide of calloused fingertips over his nipples, crying out to the ceiling like he would have done had he had Ace buried deep inside. His chest tingled with warmth, the valley caused by Ace pressing him together like that flushed pink with the heated contact.

But on blinking back – blinking through the haze and the coiling, buzzing ache of his almost frantic unspoken need to at _least_ have Ace reach back and jerk him off – Deuce’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Ace’s expression.

Close.

Impossibly close.

Strained – tense – desperate. His lower lip pinched between his teeth, brow furrowed, cheeks dark with the flush that extended all the way up to his ears. Deuce had never seen him quite like that; had never seen Ace quite so lost in the moment, so very clearly teetering on the brink of orgasm yet… not quite achieving it.

There wasn’t enough friction. He couldn’t provide enough contact to truly set Ace’s nerves alight, to be the catalyst that caused him to snap and fall into body-wracking bliss.

So—

Releasing Ace’s right thigh, Deuce laid his hand over the top of Ace’s cock, forming a bridge of sorts between his pecs, thumb extended to rub slick to the head with each draw back, and—

It seemed to work. Seemed to do the trick, giving rise to a keening, desperate sound from Ace, the press of his knees to Deuce’s sides, head dropping like he was slowly losing control of himself – which Deuce encouraged, _needed_ , guiding him into moaning low at the sight of Ace struggling like that.

“ _Deuce_ ,” Ace ground out, hips stuttering in their rhythm, nails biting deep where pressure increased on Ace’s lean forward – Deuce’s lungs _burned_ , dizziness setting in with the dual intensity of verging on hyperventilating coupled with that welcomed weight bearing down, revelling in it, _loving it_ , “ _that’s it_ , p-press down, keep your hand r-right there, that’s so much _better—”_

Every slick slide of his cock created a filthy, wet sound that rang too loud, _so_ loud, but god, no, Deuce couldn’t care – he thrust up, writhing back into the pillows like _he_ was the one with his dick pressed between muscle and hand and warmth, warmth _, warmth so intense it burned—_

_And—_

_“Ace,”_ he all but sobbed, incapable of looking away, of looking anywhere but straight at Ace’s concentration, how _intense_ he looked this _close_ , pinned under that stormy gray, “Ace I’m gonna—I think I’m gonna c-come—”

Ace nodded briskly, panting, the sheen of sweat across his chest and abs picking up the light in such a manner that Deuce suddenly yearned to _lick._ “Same,” he moaned, “close your eyes, Deu, I-I’m—”

He did no such thing. Instead, Deuce raised his head as much as he could in his position and opened his mouth, waiting, inviting, _begging_ —

“—Oh my _g-god_ , Deuce, that’s—!”

It worked.

Ace came with a rushed, short sigh, hips snapping forwards before reducing down into shallow rocks against Deuce. His aim was poor – something that Deuce would have to remember to tease him for later – more than half missing its mark on Deuce’s waiting tongue and instead hitting his lips and chin.

But no matter – caring about aim became startlingly difficult to focus on when that incredible, familiar sensation gripped him with vigor, wringing from Deuce his own orgasm to a gasped, confused sort of sound. It was – _weird_. That was the only way he could describe it. Weird to come from… nothing, really. Weird, but impossibly satisfying. Weird, but good enough that he sighed Ace’s name through his release, loving it and loving _him_ and forgetting what it meant to _think._

Yet as it subsided he tensed, swallowing Ace’s flavor, amazement cutting clear through the sheer relief that release brought him.

And, strangely, Ace jerked in place atop him, a surprised little squeak slipping out amid the ragged breaths, the sighed moans.

“W-What?” Deuce panted, reaching blindly for the box of tissues on the nightstand. “What happened?”

Ace snorted, shakily climbing off to sit beside him instead – his warmth and weight were instantly missed, Deuce found, as if he had just lost a part of himself, in some odd, detached sort of way. He wanted to pull Ace back on, to cuddle up, to feel Ace’s ass and balls slicked with sweat against his chest again – a thought that made him snicker to himself.

And that snicker turned into a full-blown laugh when Ace turned around, showing his back to Deuce. “You came all over my back!” Ace failed miserably at trying to sound outraged, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the streaks of white up his lower back.

“I did warn you I was going to come,” Deuce said unapologetically, wiping at his face. “Here, let me clean you up.”

“Can’t believe you came like that,” Ace said, sounding deeply awed, as Deuce gently mopped up his back, “that was impressive. Do you think you could do it again?”

Deuce shrugged, rather enjoying where this conversation was going. “Only one way to find out,” he said, flashing a coy smile at Ace when he looked round hopefully. Inspired and full to the brim of that soft, sweet feeling that orgasm did so love to bring, Deuce took Ace’s chin between forefinger and thumb before leaning in to press a soft, slow kiss to his lips. Carding his fingers through Ace’s hair, lifting it away from his face, Deuce murmured, “you looked good like that.”

Ace hummed, tilting his jaw to invite another unhurried kiss. “Could you tell I was nervous?” He asked, looking sheepish. “I dunno why… probably because it seemed so one-sided…”

It had been pretty clear that Ace had been a little apprehensive despite how excited he was, what with the obvious stalling… and having the reason _why_ confirmed like this was heart-stoppingly sweet.

“Were you?” Deuce lied easily, returning the easy smile that lit Ace’s face. “And it definitely wasn’t one-sided – no need to worry about that.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Ace said, eyeing up the wad of tissues Deuce had used on his back, “glad you enjoyed it too.”

Another kiss; then another. And another. Each slow, unrushed, and searching. Grounding. Relaxing the tempo; calming their racing hearts.

“Shower?”

“Shower.”

“And round two?”

Deuce grinned, taking Ace’s offered hand. “And risk traumatising anyone who ventures that way?” He snorted, amused. “Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Deuce? A living, breathing contradiction? Never! 😂
> 
> Feel free to fill [my Tumblr](https://chromiwrites.tumblr.com/) inbox with prompts, nonsense, or anything at all! I love to chat TT
> 
> Comments and kudos let me know if I'm doing something right, and I always love your feedback!


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